Chagall Guevara MCA [3½ Stars]

Chagall Guevara is a Nashville band that epitomizes the most positive
connotations of the word band: collective strength, camaraderie and a built-in
check on egos. Guitar-group purists in search of a fix will instantly be
heartened by the chiming chords that introduce the opening cut, "Murder in the
Big House," like a call to arms. The tumbling frenzy of the rhythm section
joins the fray, then Steve Taylor's indignant voice falls in, asking: "When
did you last look up at the sky? / Really look at the sky and wonder? / Used to
be you could see forever / Now there's cracks in the canvas we're under."

Not since the Clash has a group so effectively turned militant discontent
into passionate rock & roll and still maintained a sense of perspective
and humor, however black. "Play God" aims darts at those who do just what the
title says - televangelists, corporate tycoons, sleazy politicos - with a dry
wit underscored by loopy, amateurish horns (the only departure from guitars
and drums on the record). The manic rave-up "Take Me Back to Love Canal"
takes a fun-house-mirror look at life in the ruins, complete with a catchy
sing-along chorus. "Candy Guru" goes after false prophets, "The Rub of Love"
scrutinizes the motives of an absentee dad, and "Violent Blue" rues the demise
of idealism in this hardened age.

When piqued by some subject, as in the anti-authoritarian "Monkey Grinder,"
Chagall Guevara attacks corrosively. The flip side is the buoyantly textured
pop of "Escher's World" - reminiscent of Cheap Trick when the band was fab -
and "Love Is a Dead Language." Finally, if your heart belongs to dada, "The
Wrong George" - a tape of an apparently real-life telephone conversation with
a confused old woman, set to instrumental accompaniment - will have you in
stitches.

Throughout the debut, the feverish interplay of guitars - trebly-pop
Rickenbakers pitted against granite-hard Les Pauls - keeps the musical
amperage high, while Taylor's match-to-a-flint voice stokes his ideas to
flame. Chagall Guevara is a cathartic scream, with guitars that crunch like
the apocalyptic reckoning the band believes is inevitable - and worth
resisting with every remaining ounce of conviction.